


Banal Abelas

by thenewgirl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arguing, Break Up, F/M, Fixing Canon, Waterfall Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewgirl/pseuds/thenewgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The waterfall scene.  Mostly.  Because my Lavellan isn’t the sort to fall back on a placating “I know you told me because you wanted to help…”</p>
<p>Or:  Solas tells Hanne the truth about the <i>vallaslin</i> and offers to remove hers despite her angry reaction to his revelation.  She tells him where he can put that idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banal Abelas

It had been one of those rare days when the sun came out over Crestwood, painting the landscape in vivid greens and red and gold. Gorgeous, but Hanne much preferred the muted tones of the night. With the restless dead quieted, the night had a way of making everything seem peaceful. Calm. Almost like the old days—

She shut down that thought before it could go to dangerous places. _Focus on the now. Where you are, and who you’re with._ She stole a glance at Solas. He strolled along beside her, his fingers twined with hers, his smile mysterious. Occasionally his expression slipped, became serious and distant. Just for a moment, and then a quick look at her seemed to restore him.

Something was definitely up. The question was—what?

They meandered through a short tunnel with walls of rough stone and into a glade that made her ache for home again. A small stream tripped and spilled over a tall bluff, forming a slender waterfall that reminded her of a place in which Clan Lavellan had stayed several months in her childhood. The sound of it combined with the irregular drops finally falling from leaves that had caught the afternoon’s rain was a lullaby, as soothing as her mother’s voice. In the midst of it all, two proud stone halla flanked the path, and she could remember when she had listened to the Keeper telling stories of Ghilan’nain under just such a statue.

Her clan. Her mother. Her Keeper— _Focus on the now. Feel the peace they offer as beautiful things, not the pain of a lost past._

A waterfall washing the rocks. Small trees, large bushes, vines, flowers—all in a riot of untamed green. Halla traveling with her, familiar in the strangest places. Her love by her side. The beauty of the now.

“The Veil is thin here,” Solas said. It was the first word either of them had spoken in some time; the sound startled her. He stopped, and so did she. “Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?” he asked. She could only look at him curiously. There was no tingle, not for her. Did he really feel it that way? Was it like a breeze brushing across his face, or more like an ant crawling up his arm? She forgot the question as he raised his hand to caress her cheek. The touch left its own sort of tingle, a pleasant effervescent feeling that lingered after contact itself was gone. “I was…” he began, and hesitated. “…trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.”

Hanne raised her own fingertips to brush across the place where his had rested. “I’m listening,” she replied. “And I can offer a few suggestions.”

That made him smile again, just for a moment. “I shall bear that in mind,” he said happily. “For now, the best gift I can offer… is the truth.” His eyes softened, and she could see love reflected there. “You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade.” He was trying very hard to be serious, but his lips were not cooperating. They kept turning up at the corners and betraying him. “You have become important to me. More important than I could have imagined.”

“As you are to me.”

“Then what I must tell you,” he continued, “the truth—your face. The _vallaslin_.” Her heart felt suddenly heavy. The truth. About a longstanding Dalish tradition. Of course. It was so… _Solas_. “In my journeys in the Fade, I have discovered what those marks mean.” He still gazed at her tenderly, oblivious to her growing discomfort.

“They honor the elven gods,” she responded warily.

It was clearly the answer he’d been waiting for. “No. They are slave markings. Or at least they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.” A wise and learned teacher, correcting a promising student who had fallen prey to common misconception. The heavy lump that had once been her heart dissipated, flaring straight from lead to fire. She drew back.

“Why would you say something like that?” she demanded.

“Because it’s true.” He smiled down at her. She loved him—loved him so much it hurt her sometimes. Which was why it cut so deeply when he pulled this kind of crap. 

Her hands curled closed into fists, ready to lash out. “Bullshit. That’s bullshit!” Finally, a tiny shadow of doubt fell across his face. “Is there anything in this world you won’t tear down just to prove how smart you are?” If only he had shown any awareness of the arrogance inherent in his revelation—if only she had seen even a hint that he might possibly have understood how much this precious truth of his hurt—if only—if only— “ _Why_ would you tell me this?”

“Because you deserve better!” 

Hanne turned away. Failure, all around. One more thing the Dalish had gotten wrong. And this was how he showed her that he loved her. By telling her that her entire culture was wrong, was backward, was little more than another kind of _shemlen_. She was supposed to thank him for enlightening her. She was supposed to feel honored to be let in on this secret of his. But he hadn’t finished yet.

“I didn’t tell you this to hurt you,” he said. “If you like, I know a spell… I can remove the _vallaslin_.”

She’d taken wounds in battle that hadn’t hurt as much. She raised one hand to touch the dark lines branching out across her cheek. How long had she sat before Keeper Istimaethoriel, struggling internally to stay silent? Hours, at least. The proudest day of her life, the day she had become a full adult member of the clan. The day she had dedicated herself to the service of Falon’Din—whose legacy Solas had also insulted, she remembered. He hadn’t been able to resist sharing that little piece of scholarship either.

“How dare you?” she whispered, and heard him go very still behind her. She pivoted, put her whole body into the motion, and hit him with a solid right hook. He staggered backward, holding his jaw where she’d landed the punch and looking utterly flabbergasted. “Right or wrong,” she said, advancing on him, “these _slave markings_ are all that I have left of my clan. I should care more about what they mean—but I don’t. I just don’t. Because when I think of them, what I think of is my Keeper. My parents. My brother and sisters. My home. Everything that was destroyed at Wycome.” She shook her head. “You’re so set on proving the Dalish wrong that you’ve completely overlooked how important they are to _me_ , haven’t you?”

“I’m sorry for causing you pain,” he said when she paused for breath. “It was selfish—”

“Yes. It was. You say that you’re telling me this because you want to show me how much I mean to you. I don’t think this is what you meant—but congratulations. You’ve shown me exactly what you think of me.” She pushed past him, toward the tunnel through which they had entered.

“It _was_ selfish,” he repeated. “I look at you, and I see what you truly are—”

She whirled to face him again. “What I truly am?” she demanded incredulously. “What I truly am is a Dalish elf, Solas. A Dalish elf who has lost her clan, her family, her home, her _everything_.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she had to pause to find her balance again. “All I have left are my memories—and you—and it seems that I must choose between them.”

“ _Vhenan_. You—”

“Stop. Stop calling me that. Just—stop.” Tears prickled in her eyes as she turned back to the path. “I can’t—I can’t do this. Make your own way back to Skyhold. I don’t think I want to see you for a while.”

“Please. _Ir abelas, vh_ —Inquisitor.”

“ _Banal abelas_ ,” she shot over her shoulder as she left. “ _Banal vhenan._ ”


End file.
